The devil's on your shoulder,
strangers in your head
As if you don't remember, as if you can forget
It's only been a moment, it's only been a lifetime
But tonight you're a stranger
Some silhouette
- Aquilo
Harry's POV
"Hey," I whisper awkwardly.
I don't know why I whispered, and quite frankly I don't think I meant to. She just looks so fragile, I felt that if I spoke a little too loud, she could just fade into thin air.
Her usually vibrant yet mysterious green eyes were sunken and faintly bloodshot. She's just in a very tight sports bra and boy shorts, the sweater she was wearing last night is not too far from where she's sat at the windowsill.
Under normal circumstances, her clothing choice or lack of, would have had some sort of effect on me; my inability to inhale properly during the first few seconds that I stepped into this room proves that side effects are still very much included.
But her distorted appearance managed to keep my wondering mind at bay.
I'm just lucky I haven't walked in on her naked, yet.
That's just the thing. Yet.
If I'm stupid enough to keep this up, I might not be so lucky someday.
I've made a habit of simply welcoming myself into her room whenever I feel like it. Not because I'm trying to be an arrogant son of a bitch that wants her to know I can do whatever I want because it is my house, but because I've gotten comfortable around her.
That's just the word. Comfortable.
These past few weeks, I've gotten used to our basic routines that we've religiously followed everyday. Our peacefully silent breakfasts together, my constant teasing, her constant ignoring or flipping me off and everything in between; including the movie-watching and the rare moments when I get to discover something new about her.
Sometimes I forget that this isn't forever and when I do remember, it's like I used a needle to pop this bubble of a fantasy world in my head. The simplicity of our everyday lives was much appreciated, but it's funny how there is nothing simple about this very complicated girl sitting in front of me.
Her cautious and calculated movement pulls me from my mind and I focus on my staring. She leans forward to pick her discarded sweater off of the floor and quickly pulls it over her head and I shamelessly pout as she covers up the entire upper part of her body and part of her upper thighs with the large sweater.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not some constantly horny or sex-crazed teenager, I do have this little thing we call self-control; it's all these little things.
It's just that, Reed is hot. And I mean really hot.
I think the part that drives me crazy is the fact that she doesn't know she is; she probably doesn't think she could even be found attractive to anyone.
She's so secure in her own bubble, possibly oblivious to every form of male attention she's ever gotten. That includes Niall and I.
I'm not going to pretend that I didn't notice him checking her out at Louis' birthday party and him flirting with her every chance he got, who either didn't notice or simply chooses to ignore him; probably the former but I was secretly hoping for the latter.
Which is why I politely made it very clear to my dear Irish lad that he can't go ahead with whatever he had in mind, unless he...well, let's just say he won't be able to prove he's Irish.
YOU ARE READING
The Real Reed
Fanfiction"I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me." He says, his hot breath aggressively fanning my face from his harsh breathing, and I have to fight the urge to just lean in. "Tell me that these past couple of weeks meant nothing to...
